


Pieces, One by One

by lowflyingidiom



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: Anal Sex, Developing Relationship, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Smut, Inappropriate Use of Olive Oil, M/M, Massage, Minor Injuries, Oral Sex, Scars, Unresolved Emotional Tension, sex as a substitute for adult conversation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27625231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowflyingidiom/pseuds/lowflyingidiom
Summary: Reeve finds out through official channels that Barret has been injured on a WRO project.They find something to do while busy Not Talking About It.
Relationships: Reeve Tuesti/Barret Wallace
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Pieces, One by One

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my lovely and _patient_ beta reader [SandyMoonCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandyMoonCat)
> 
> So I wrote this totally self-indulgent PWP because I got impatient waiting for the smut in the totally self-indulgent slow burn I’m writing at the same time. Then the PWP grew an extra 2000 words of Reeve generally being emotionally constipated, so I guess that’s a thing. Enjoy :)
> 
> Timeline is somewhere during/after _On the Way to a Smile_ , and before _Advent Children_.

It was early afternoon by the time Reeve was able to cut through the red tape at the medical center and get Barret released into his custody, although he suspected that the process had been expedited regardless. Whether because of his status as leader of the WRO or simply because Barret had been terrifying the orderlies was impossible to say. 

“You didn’t have to scare the poor woman,” Reeve chided him gently as they slipped into the waiting car for the trip back to Reeve’s Junon home. 

“She wanted me to wear a _gown_ , Reeve. Can you imagine?”

Reeve found that he could, and leaned his mouth into one fist to hide his amusement. He was quite proud that his voice didn’t waiver when he answered, “I’m sure she had a good reason.” 

Barret growled beside him. When Reeve risked a glance over he saw the man had fixed a suspicious glare on him, presumably to check if he was secretly laughing, and he did everything he could to look innocent of all charges. 

Part of the urge to laugh was born of relief, truth be told. Reeve had received the call late the previous night that a former member of AVALANCHE had been injured. Some incident involving a drake attack at the construction of a WRO hydro-electric facility a few hundred kilometers inland. 

The panic that had gripped him when he learned that Barret was being airlifted to Junon medical facilities lessened only hours later when he’d been able to confirm that it was a precautionary measure, that team on site had been trying to avoid a media incident after not protecting one of the heroes of Meteorfall. 

Even so, the urge to reach out and touch, to assure himself that it was as the doctors said – a bad fall but nothing that couldn’t be fixed with some cure spells and a few days’ rest – was almost overwhelming. Only Barret’s insistence that they not land on the news for reasons unrelated to work, not just yet, kept his hands at bay. He eyed the driver – a good man and a good friend but a terrible gossip – and found that he longed terribly for the days when he was still allowed to drive himself around without a fleet of bodyguards and a swarm of paparazzi. 

After some argument with WRO security the pair left Reeve’s official escort in the building lobby before taking the elevator up to the penthouse level. Reeve strained under the weight of Barret’s gear but did everything not to let it show – some combination of dread that his lover would ignore the doctor’s advice to avoid any lifting over the next days, and a streak of stubborn pride that didn’t want to be seen struggling under the weight of Barret’s heavy prosthetic (also forbidden for the week).

It was with relief that Reeve dropped the entire pile into the foyer and slammed the door behind them, barely registering the _crack_ as the massive machine gun impacted with the marble slab.

“I think you broke the floor,” Barret deadpanned, but Reeve didn’t have eyes for the ornate entrance of his apartment, instead turning on Barret. 

“Don’t scare me like that again, _please_.” 

“Hey, hey,” the big man reached out and grabbed Reeve’s shoulder, softening at something he must have seen in his face – Reeve had never done as well as he wanted at hiding his thoughts, not from people who knew him, “Just a scare. Nothing else.” 

Reeve reached up both hands to wrap around Barret’s wrist, reassuringly solid under his fingers, “Right.” 

More words pressed at Reeve’s throat and he swallowed them down. They had been in one another’s orbits since shortly after the rebuilding project began in Edge, some nameless thing growing until one night of a few too many (or maybe not enough) drinks had landed them in bed. One night, and a dozen more since, when their lives brought them near enough to touch.

Exactly as Reeve was doing, when he slipped his fingers to find the pulse point inside Barret’s wrist. 

“Reeve,” Barret protested, pulling his arm free, “I’m fine. Sore as hell, but fine.” 

“You should be sore,” Reeve answered, horrified to notice his voice was shaking, “You fell off a third story scaffold – you’re lucky it wasn’t worse.” 

“Nah,” Barret rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish, “I feel _old_ though. In my twenties I’d walk it off with a cure spell and a shot of whiskey.” 

Reeve choked out a laugh, “Well, I can offer you the whiskey... On a personal level I’d prefer you take the prescribed down time.” 

“You anglin’ for me to take it here?”

“I,” Reeve swallowed. He had been, without realizing it. Was all he had been thinking since he got the all clear from the WRO medical team, without quite pinning down the impulse, “You could. Let me get you that whiskey.” 

Focusing on pouring out two tumblers of the amber liquor – rocks for Barret without needing to ask – gave Reeve the necessary pause to collect himself before turning back to the other man. 

“You know the doc just told me to rest because you scared the hell out of him, showing up in person an’ all. We used to get worse than this all the time on the road.”

_And we didn’t all come home,_ Reeve didn’t say, just shook his head and pushed the glass into Barret’s hand, “cheers.” 

“Cheers,” Barret answered, clinking their glasses together before draining his own with a grimace, making Reeve wondered if Barret had shared his unspoken thought.

“Another?” he asked, instead of pressing where it hurt. 

“You tryin’ to get me drunk, Reeve?” Barret accused him, and whatever darkness had tried to settle in the room moved on.

“I think you’re supposed to be taking it easy,” Reeve said, although the thought of more, of whatever the thing was that had been happening between them the past months, had crossed his mind. 

“Just a sore back, I’m not an invalid,” Barret frowned, accepting a second glass when Reeve passed it to him but only sipping from it before setting it aside, “How ‘bout I let you do all the work?” 

“Ah,” Reeve, pressing his own glass to his mouth for a moment to collect himself before replying. He couldn’t think of a previous relationship (if in fact that was what they were in) in which he had been so unsure of himself... but then, he had never been with anyone who _mattered_ to him in quite the way that Barret did, “I could rub your back, if it’s sore?” 

“Wouldn’t say no,” Barret’s face broke into an easy grin, “need a shower pretty bad though, after everything. You mind?”

“Not at all,” Reeve shook his head, “You should find everything you need in the ensuite.” 

When Barret disappeared down the hallway Reeve washed the tumblers, set them to dry, listened to the water running in the bedroom. He was half astonished by his own boldness, their arrangement a largely unspoken thing, something tiptoed around (well, that Reeve tiptoed around, if he was being strictly honest with himself – Barret seemed quite surefooted about the entire thing) aside from the agreement to keep it quiet, not get Marlene’s hopes up and then let her down. 

Reeve had no intentions of letting her down, but wasn’t sure yet quite how to say that. 

When the sound of running water stopped in the other room, he felt a sudden apprehension that he’d made an offer he couldn’t fulfill. Didn’t massage usually involve... lotion? Massage oil? Something of the kind to reduce friction. He couldn’t think of anything of the sort kept in his Junon home, a place kept mostly for the sake of ceremony as he was most often on the road with the WRO. He supposed that there was always lube (something he had acquired an ambitious volume of since their arrangement began), but the thought of offering it for a backrub, whatever other hopes he might harbour for afterward, seemed entirely too forward. 

His dilemma resolved itself when he remembered a bottle of olive oil, something fancy and ‘artisanal’ that Tifa had gifted him following a trip to Costa del Sol, and which had been relegated to a cupboard of his unused kitchen some weeks before. 

It was almost certainly not the intended purpose. 

He grabbed it anyway and headed toward the bedroom. 

Reeve froze in the doorway. Barret had neglected to dress on exiting the shower, and had stretched across the bed while he waited, face buried in a pillow.

He propped himself on his elbow to look over at the same moment that Reeve’s nervous heart did a sudden thump- _thump_.

“I,” Reeve cleared his throat, licked suddenly too-dry lips, “I found some oil.” 

Barret made a noise of acknowledgement, then after the moment stretched out added, “Don’t just stand there, you’re makin’ me feel weird.” 

It was strange, Reeve reflected as he walked toward the bed – he suspected it might be the first time that he saw Barret in full daylight, sprawled carelessly as he was over the duvet in the afternoon sunlight. Although they had been together many times already, frequent separations for work made the thing feel newer than it actually was, made it seem like a fresh introduction every time one or the other returned from some long project, and there never seemed to be time for the slow moments. For the afternoons in bed. 

He stepped to the side of the bed and glanced away, almost nervous to look in the moment, although Barret seemed amused by his hesitance. All of AVALANCHE had lost any semblance of body shyness in the months they were forced to live in one another’s pockets while travelling the world before Meteorfall (and Barret may never have had any to begin with) but Reeve had not shared that part of their experience, and had remained more hesitant to undress casually. 

After a moment of deliberation, he removed his suitcoat and tie before joining Barret on the bed. 

“Guess I gotta work for it,” and under the force of Barret’s raised eyebrow Reeve stood to add his button down and undershirt to the list of discarded clothing, face heating in a way he resented in light of his age and experience. 

“Better?” Reeve asked.

“It’s a start.” And while Barret didn’t visibly laugh at him, he suspected it was only a matter of the other man’s self-control.

He eased back onto the bed with the oil in arm’s reach, and when he saw the quirk of amusement again leveled in his direction over his lover’s broad shoulder, he threw a leg over Barret to straddle his thighs. 

“ _Better_?” Reeve asked again, with mild exasperation. 

“Didn’t say anything,” Barret protested, dropping his face back down into the pillows, but he was laughing silently, Reeve felt in the shift of Barret’s body pressed close between his legs, and the heat he felt in response no longer had anything to do with embarrassment. 

He tried to brush it off to concentrate on the task in front of him – although the task in front of him was of course an awful lot of beloved naked man in his bed – and grabbed for the oil. 

He enjoyed a small victory when Barret hissed and squirmed as the cool oil splashed onto his back, smiling, “It serves you right,” and getting a grunt in response. 

Reeve really had no idea how to give a massage, in spite of his offer, but had some vague notion it involved a lot of years of anatomy classes and certifications. Even so, he couldn’t think of a time that he himself hadn’t enjoyed affectionate contact, regardless of expertise, and used that as a starting point, pressing light, gliding touches to move the oil across his lover’s broad frame. 

He thought, in the afternoon sunlight, that it might have been the first time he’d had a moment to appreciate the contrast between them, splaying pale fingers across Barret’s dark back as he ran hands up his lover’s body. Before, it had always been frantic, or drunk, or late... although he felt a little frantic, all the same. 

He moved his touch in gentle and slow motions, willing himself to express with the cautious pressure of his hands something he couldn’t quite articulate aloud about care and worry and affection. Kept at it, until the man under him hummed happily and murmured, “Feels good... do my shoulders?” 

Although they were near enough to the same height, Barret was nevertheless massive in a way that Reeve could never hope to achieve in any number of hours at the gym, and he found himself inching forward until he was seated on Barret’s ass to reach across the man’s muscular frame. By effort of will, he kept his mind on only the task of chasing the tension away from his lover’s form until the man sighed with what sounded a lot like contentment. 

If he was honest with himself, Reeve was delighted to touch. After all the time with AVALANCHE as the cat, time that he’d spent just looking and wanting, the touching was a privilege he never thought he’d have, and for however long as the privilege was extended to him he was determined not to waste it. 

He moved slowly from shoulders, to neck, and down to arms, and then paused. 

He suspected it might also be the first time he really had a chance to look at Barret’s graft point in daylight, the arm seeming strangely incomplete without one of the massive firearms connected. Besides which, he realized, Barret almost always kept the arm covered above the gun. He knew there was scarring, of course, but he’d never had the chance to examine it before – either quickly covered again as the man changed clothes, or else distracted by the other activities they were engaging in during their encounters. 

Angry scars covered what was left of the man’s arm nearly to the shoulder, and Reeve hesitated with his hands resting on Barret’s shoulder blade. 

“Looks bad, huh?” 

Reeve sucked in a breath even as he felt the tension begin to flow back into Barret's muscles. He considered lying, but knew that Barret had done a better job than most at calling his bullshit even before they became lovers. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked instead. 

“Feels weird,” Barret answered, “Some of it’s from the bullets and some’s from the surgery, but it hasn’t hurt in years. Not really.” 

“Can I touch?”

Pressed together as they were he felt more than saw the tightening of Barret’s form under him. Then the man gave a full body sigh, as if reaching some conclusion within himself that Reeve had not been party to. 

“If you want.” 

Reeve collected more oil to slide his hands down Barret’s right arm, taking his time to run his thumb a few times over a knot of scar tissue at the edge of his bicep and making Barret hiss.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, drawing his hands away quickly, but Barret shook his head into the pillows. 

“Nah. Told you it doesn’t hurt, just... no one touches me there. Wasn’t expecting it.” 

It made Reeve ache in a way that he couldn’t define, to see the unspoken hurt in the man he cared about (man he _loved_ , he had admitted to himself some time ago, but he’d be damned if he was going to say it out loud – not first, not yet). 

“You keep it covered,” Reeve said instead of what he was thinking. 

After a pause Barret answered, “... I do.” 

Reeve leaned in again, more slowly, and began to trace the lines of scarring that rose from the graft point, alternating patches of raised hard scarring and pale, too-soft skin where the tissue damage had run deep. 

He explored until Barret’s breath hitched again, and his fingers froze in place as the tension gathered again in Barret’s body, some internal threshold exceeded. 

Reeve removed his hands and leaned forward over Barret’s back, pressing them full body together in a slide of oil and pressing his face to the nape of Barret’s neck, breathing in the scent of grassy oil and citrus soap, and something beneath that was wonderfully and familiarly Barret. He pressed lips just below Barret's hairline and felt the larger man’s full body shudder beneath him. 

“Sorry,” Reeve breathe into his ear, as loudly as he dared. 

“S’okay,” Barret mumbled in answer. 

Reeve sat up again and planted his palms against the base of his lover’s back, drawing slow and thoughtful circles there. He shimmied back until he was again straddling Barret’s thighs and slipped the heels of his palms to the space just above his ass, below where his belt would normally sit. 

“Could I?” 

“Of course,” Barret rumbled in answer. 

Reeve slipped down a little further, to spread his hands wide over Barret’s ass, thumbs stretching to tease at the juncture at the top of his thighs for a moment before gliding back up to his mid-back. Repeated the entire process once, and then again, creating a rhythm or rocking strokes and pressure punctuated at each pass on the downstroke by a firm squeeze of his ass, until Barret finally groaned and twisted to look over his shoulder.

“You gonna do something about that or what?”

“What?” 

Barret again raised a meaningful eyebrow and shifted until he was pressing against where Reeve’s trousers had tented, sending a rush through the heavy, warm arousal gathering there, where the fabric was tellingly ruined from oil as he pressed forward with every upstroke. 

“Ah,” Reeve hesitated, following Barret’s gaze, “I wanted to take care of you, first.” 

“Can do both, can’t you?” 

“Um,” Reeve looked away. The penthouse faced west, and he looked out the window to where there was nothing but ocean and horizon and no need to make uncomfortable eye contact or _talk_ about things. 

He fumbled his fly open with slippery fingers and pulled himself, already mostly hard, from his underwear, giving a few oil slicked tugs with a little sigh of relief. 

He leaned forward again, letting his cock slide against Barret’s bare skin as he leaned forward again to resume rubbing over his lover’s back. 

“Is this okay?” 

Barret answered with a hum of assent as Reeve slid forward and back, his erection slipping into the cleft of Barret’s ass as he did and groaning at the sensation. He controlled the urge to thrust against the man beneath him and concentrated on maintaining the pattern of his hands. Up Barret’s back, down his sides, cupping his ass (pressing the flesh until it gripped at his oiled cock with delicious, maddening side and friction) and back up again. 

“Wanna fuck me?” Barret asked after a few moments, and Reeve froze.

“I... are you sure?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“It’s just, we usually...” 

“Yeah, well,” Barret shifted under him, sending a shudder through him where he perched above the larger man, “Just happened that way, I guess? Wouldn’t give what I wasn’t ready to take.”

Reeve leaned forward until they were pressed together full length and smiled, hiding the expression against his lover’s back. 

“Well, I don’t think I can give quite as much as you can...” 

Barret laughed, “Jealous?” 

“A little,” Reeve admitted. He rocked his hips forward again, this time with intention, and felt the other man press back into him with a noise of contentment. 

“Been on the bottom before?” Reeve asked, suddenly unsure. 

“Nope,” Barret answered, “But I know you’ll take good care of me.” 

A full body shudder of arousal moved through Reeve, finishing with a throb of his erection where it twitched against his lover in another shiver of friction.

“I _will_ ,” He agreed, and reached for the bottle of oil again, fumbling it with slick fingers and cursing before finally grabbing a sheet to wrap on the lid for enough traction that the bottle popped open. 

“Ready?” 

Barret nodded, and Reeve poured out more of the oil. Probably too much, with hands that shook with anticipation, but he supposed there was really never such a thing as too much lube – especially not a first time. Oil dripped over his hand and onto Barret’s ass, running between his legs in bright trails. 

“Excited?” Barret asked with laughter in his voice, squirming when the oil appeared to reach somewhere sensitive. 

“Yeah,” Reeve breathed back, voice low and unsteady in arousal and anticipation. His fingers followed the trails of oil to his lover’s entrance, and traced curious circles on the pucker of muscle there while Barret sucked in a sudden breath and squirmed beneath him. 

“Still okay?” Reeve asked. 

“Very okay,” Barret answered, “More sensitive, when you do it.” 

It took a moment, through the haze of arousal, for Reeve to parse his meaning, then when he did groaned loud and low as he imagined Barret touching himself that same way while getting himself off. His erection twitched with interest at the thought. 

Suddenly impatient, he pressed the tip of a finger inside, watching with wonder as it disappeared into his lover with a clench and then relaxing of the ring of muscle there. 

“I... that’s different.” 

“Bad different?” Reeve asked, freezing his motions. 

“Nah,” Barret answered, and wiggle back against him, “Just different. Don’t stop.” 

Reeve didn’t, after that, withdrawing only long enough to slide a second finger in with the first, thrusting lightly and curling his thumb to press at the sensitive area of his perineum. With the free hand he coaxed Barret up onto his knees so that he could wrap his oiled hand around the other man’s erection when he did. 

“Fuck yeah,” Barret groaned his approval, rocking between Reeve’s hands in time with his movements. 

“You like it?” Reeve asked him, half statement and half uncertainty. 

“Feels good,” Barret answered, “I like _you_.” 

Reeve swallowed hard, uncertain how to deal with that, so said instead, “Tell me when you’re ready.” 

“Any time.” 

With an unsteady breath Reeve slipped his hands free of his lover, used one to grab Barret’s hip and the other to align himself. He slid his cockhead up and down a few times across Barret’s opening to spread oil onto himself, shuddering as he held back. 

“Relax,” he warned at last, as Barret had always warned him just before pressing inside, the word colored with arousal and anticipation between them. 

Then he did as promised, pushing gradually against the first press of resistance before entering him. 

“Okay?” he asked, fighting the urge to thrust the rest of the way in, to ride hard and fast and chase the peak he could already feel heavy in his balls. 

“Yeah,” Barret answered with a heavy breath out, “yeah, just, gimme a minute.”

“Of course,” Reeve answered, and moved a hand to draw soothing circles on his lower back. He let his other hand return to its place on Barret’s erection, offering long encouraging strokes to distract from the new sensation. 

After a long moment, felt the bigger man stir beneath him, some string of tension letting go all at once and Barret was pressing back against him, pushing until Reeve was fully seated inside him with a gasp of surprised pleasure as his lover’s body tightly enveloped him.

He answered by leaning forward to drop a series of open, wanting kisses across Barret’s back, whispering “So good,” even as he began to work his hand more intently over the man’s cock.

“Fuck me, then,” Barret answered, half growled, head dropped down against his forearm after raising to his elbow when he pressed back. 

Reeve did. Slowly and with great care, at first, holding back for any sign of discomfort or unease until it was clear that Barret had adjusted to him. Then, with increasing urgency, plunging into the tight heat of his lover to the sound of slapping skin between them, crying out his pleasure in time with Barret’s deep groans beneath him as their bodies came together. 

Reeve didn’t last as long as he wanted to, didn’t think it would be possible to last as long as he wanted to ( _forever_ ) before he was panting and pressing his forehead against Barret’s back, recognizing his own undoing as his hand stuttered for rhythm on his lover’s length. 

“I’m gonna come,” he warned, half in question. 

“It’s okay,” Barret answered, hearing the question he didn’t ask.

The knowing was enough to push him over, moving his hands to Barret’s hips and spilling into him as deep as he could reach in a few final desperate deep thrusts and a long moan, “ _Barret_.” 

After a long boneless moment of bliss pressed against Barret’s back, Reeve sat back, letting softening cock sliding free as he did. He pressed a thoughtful thumb against the abused ring of muscle there, eliciting a shiver and squirm from the other man.

“Shit man, don’t tease me.” Barret growled and Reeve realized he was still hard, still close. 

“Roll over,” Reeve instructed him, and when he did Reeve dropped to take him into his mouth, wrapping one hand around the base of Barret’s cock to better manage the length of him while the other found its way back between his legs to slide his fingers inside, curling forward to search for his prostate.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck,” Barret encouraged him, massive hand coming to rest on the back of Reeve’s head and guide him to take more into his mouth, the weight of his erection bumping at the back of Reeve’s throat even as his questing fingers encountered a slickness inside Barret’s body that he realized with a thrill of possessive affection was his own release inside his lover.

He groaned around Barret, and felt the man twitch in his mouth even as he began to work his fingers in and out of him in tandem with the bobbing of his head, pulling up to swirl his tongue over the tip before dropping to take in as much as he could manage of his Barret’s length

It wasn’t long before the hand in his hair began guiding him away and Barret offered a half-hearted, “Gonna –”

Reeve shook off the hand and dropped down on him again, swallowing around Barret’s cock even as he began to pulse hotly into his mouth. He swallowed as much as he could, letting what was left spill out as he lapped at Barret’s softening member. 

“Ah,” Barret pushed him away after a moment, “Too much.” 

Reeve hummed happily and backed off, letting his face turn into Barret’s hand as the man brushed the sweaty hair out of his face, followed the motion to kiss the thumb that wiped a line of come from the corner of his mouth. 

“Perfect,” Barret told him, panting and letting his head drop back onto the pillows beneath them. 

Reeve shimmied out of pants, still rucked low on his hips and probably totally ruined between the oil and other things covering them. He kicked them onto the floor and crawled up the bed to join Barret, letting himself be dragged into a loose embrace filled with long slow kisses. 

“Feeling better now?” Barret asked him after a time, pressing the question into a kiss, and Reeve suddenly hesitated. 

“I should be asking you that,” he answered, pulling away a fraction to scan Barret’s expression, “after everything that happened –”

“After everything that happened you’re a bit of a mess,” Barret told him, tangling his fingers back into Reeve’s hair and drawing him close again, “Me, I’ll get up in a bit and take a couple more of those painkillers. Not yet, though.” 

“Painkillers?” 

Reeve sat up, scanning his lover up and down while his brain turned over like a cold engine, “Oh my god. You’re impaired and I took advantage of you. I gave you _liquor_. I couldn’t tell and I didn’t even _ask_ –”

He was stopped by Barret laughing, sudden and deep and warm, “Relax, Reeve, it's not narcotic.” 

“I’m so sorry. I’m a terrible boyfriend,” Reeve declared as if Barret hadn’t spoken, dropping his forehead into his hands with a sinking feeling. 

“Boyfriend, huh?” Barret asked, picking up on Reeve’s slip before his own brain had fully processed it. 

Reeve’s feeling of the ground slipping out from under him accelerated even as Barret sat up beside him, “I... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.” 

“Yeah, you did,” Barret answered, wrapping his arm around the smaller man’s shoulders before he could retreat, “And it’s good... You really are kinda a mess, though, man.” 

Reeve barked a laugh, dropping his hands into his lap, saved finding an answer when Barret continued. 

“I like it, you know... Sometimes I forget, when I see you on the news with the WRO and you’ve got everything under control. That this is just mine.” 

Reeve let out a shaky sigh and allowed Barret to pull him close again, “You know, I never would have gotten the call at all, if it wasn’t a WRO project.” 

“Huh?”

“When you got hurt. Someone from the project contacted me because a famous hero got hurt and they were worried about a PR issue... If you hadn’t been working with the WRO... I don’t want to feel like that again.” 

Barret’s hand tightened on his shoulder and Reeve felt him go taught where they were pressed together. If it hadn’t been a WRO project, he would have learned about it on the news with everybody else. The same would have certainly happened in reverse, if anything had happened to Reeve – and Barret would have lacked any of the power or authority to shortcut through the administration and procedures of getting access to the medical facility. Silly, not to have thought of it sooner, living such dangerous lives. 

“I...” Barret cleared his throat, and Reeve felt a thread of reassurance to know that the thought had given pause to the other man, as well, “We’ll get a system in place. I promise.” 

Later, when they both had cleaned up and crawled (a little more familiar, a little less awkward) between the sheets of the bed, and they were cloaked in the privacy offered by nightfall, Barret mentioned, “Marlene’s been asking about you, you know.” 

“Oh?”

“Told her maybe you’d come around more often, soon. Uh, if that’s okay with you.” 

Reeve’s breath hitched, just a little, and was grateful for the cover of dark, “I’d like that.” 

“Good,” Barret sighed out some worry that Reeve hadn’t fully been aware he’d been holding, “I’d like that too.”


End file.
